It didn’t mean anything.
I repeat it over and over in my head until the words feel hollow.
The ride home is dark and quiet. There’s not a single streetlight on the remote highway.
Emmett’s driving and Wesley is fully reclined in the passenger seat, his hat pulled over his face and arms crossed loosely over his chest.
I stare out the window, watching trees and mountains blur into dark streaks of green—until my phone buzzes.
Vapid Dick <3
I like that shirt
My stomach flips. I blink, glancing down at my shirt—then at Wesley. He’s completely still, aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest. Like he’s asleep.
I bite my lip and type.
It was Lydia’s idea.
We were going to surprise you guys
… before you tried to die and everything
The reply is instant.
Vapid Dick <3
Remind me to thank Lyd
I’m about to type again when the three dots appear.
Vapid Dick <3
You looked really nice tonight
I hesitate.
Wesley. Are you flirting with me?
Vapid Dick <3
Do you want me to be?
I glance up.
His eyes are already on me.
My cheeks flush. I don’t even try to hide my smile.
Do I want him to be?
The question lingers, heavier than it should. Like if I answer it, the scales will tip and there won’t be any pretending after that.
I think about the way his eyes softened in the medical tent. The way his voice dropped, low and loose, like he had forgotten to keep his walls up. The way my chest still feels tight when I picture him lying there in the dirt, too still.
I tell myself it was the drugs. The adrenaline. The moment.
It didn’t mean anything.
